


All Her Ducks

by Living_Underground



Series: After Eleven [5]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Family, From Jackson's point of view, Gen, Suffice to say, There's so much I want to put in the tags, a bit of angst, after eleven, an unexpected visitor pops up in their life, but I don't want to ruin the surprise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:08:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24933520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Living_Underground/pseuds/Living_Underground
Summary: Someone turns up in the Mulder-Scullys lives unexpectedly.
Relationships: Dana Scully & William | Jackson Van De Kamp, Fox Mulder & William | Jackson Van De Kamp, Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Series: After Eleven [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1704715
Comments: 24
Kudos: 51





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Look at me, actually writing something with chapters. That...that doesn't normally happen. But I didn't like this all being together. 
> 
> It's still not got an end, but I wrote the first three chapters in, like, four hours. And I've probably got a forth in me tonight.
> 
> It's an idea that's been playing around in my mind for...years, I think. But I've never quite figured out how I wanted to do it, and then the inspiration struck today and I just...yeah, anyway. 
> 
> Timing-wise, this chapter can kind of be taken as a prologue, as it's set a little before the rest of what I've written so far for it, but it's not really a prologue. Um...this chapter's set kind of around the time of Adventuring, but the rest will be post-Mother's Day and Bringing Down the Stars I think. I don't know, I'll explain the placement of each chapter in the notes if it's necessary. 
> 
> I think it's all going to be from Jackson's pov. I think. I kind of like seeing it from his view.

It wasn’t a big store, not by any means. Three aisles of dusty commodities and a rotting picnic table out front. But it sold the essentials, and that was all anyone needed in Farrs Corner. Coffee, bread, milk, sugar. Refrigerated units along the back wall held drinks and butter and frozen waffles. If you wanted something more substantial, or more exotic, you drove across the river to Manassas or up to Fairfield Station, went to one of the supermarkets there. But most people didn’t bother. Most people kept their own chickens, grew their own vegetables. The store sufficed, as did the paycheck.

It wasn’t much, but it made him feel less guilty as he transferred a third of each month’s pay to his parents’ joint account (thank God for mobile banking: he was positive neither of them would accept the money if he told them) to help them cover food and as a sort of rent. They weren’t strapped for cash, but they had a baby to worry about and they had both been working from home as consultants in their various fields since Lissie, and he knew that didn’t bring in as much money as they would be making if they were going in to work.

He put most of the other two thirds away into a savings account that Scully had handed him the paperwork to when he’d been with them for a couple of weeks. ‘It’s not much’ – she had said, not looking at him as she shuffled from foot to foot, fingers turning one of his sister’s rattles in her hands – ‘but it’s yours. Your grandmother put $250 in there when you were born, same as she did for your cousins, and, uh, your Uncle Charlie put $100 in, and I think Bill and Tara put $100 in too. And, uh…there was some money from the FBI, they do this whip-round pool thing sometimes where people go round and gather money for various members of staff for various occasions. I think Skinner organised it with Doggett. They meant it for us because I was on my own with you, but, uh, I figured it would be better if I put it away for you, ‘cause I had enough for the two of us. I put some in each month, too. For when you were old enough to go to college or buy a car, or a house. Not that- I mean, not that you have to do any of those things with it if you don’t want, and there’s probably not enough in there…I haven’t checked it since Mulder and I left. It should have accrued some interest, though.’ The baby had cried and she’d dodged his shy smile and murmured thanks with tears wiped discretely on shoulders as she’d hurried upstairs to the nursery. She’d been right, there wasn’t enough for college. But he was rectifying that now.

What was left went towards art supplies and books mostly, though the shelves and stairs and tables and windowsills of the house provided a fairly well-stocked library on subjects he found interesting enough. Mulder’s psychology books proved insightful and interesting, particularly as he contemplated what he wanted to study.

Jackson had been living with them three months when he’d popped to the store for a loaf of bread – they hadn’t quite figured out the right amount of bread to buy with a teenager in the house: toast was a staple of his diet – to find the sign pasted up outside, a request for someone to work the tills and stock the shelves, COMPETITIVE PAY! Ask inside today!

The old man behind the counter had looked at him sceptically as he clutched the piece of paper in his hand, analysing it as if it hadn’t been him himself who had posted the advert two days ago, ‘you from ‘round here?’

‘I, uh, I just started living with my parents, um, we’re at Wallis Road, 227700? They’ve been there a few years now, but I’ve just moved in with them.’

Another studious look, ‘you adopted?’

The hackles on the back of Jackson’s neck rose, ‘I don’t see what that’s got to do with anything.’

‘I’ve got nothing against it, Son. My granddaughter’s adopted. Good as gold, that lassie is.’

‘I…they’re my biological parents. My adoptive parents died.’

A challenging look met pursed lips. ‘They’ve just had another, haven’t they, your parents? Your dad was coming in here all hours looking for the weirdest of things. Cravings,’ he gave a knowing nod, the dismissive tone saying _women’s business_ more succinctly than his words ever could. ‘I thought she’d left him, you know? Your mom, I mean. Couple of years I saw hide nor hair of either of them. Then she’s back smiling like you wouldn’t believe and a couple months later she’s doing a pretty bad job of hiding a bump as she buys pickles and chocolate ice cream. That why they’ve sent you out to get a job? ‘Cause they can’t afford you and the kiddo?’

‘No. They don’t know. But I’m saving for college’ – it hadn’t occurred to him that that was what he was doing until he said it, but it hit him that it was what he actually, really wanted.

‘You got experience?’

‘Uh…no. But I worked in a diner for just under a year. And I’m pretty good at picking things up.’

As interviews went, it wasn’t the most conventional. But, to his surprise, the old man removed his apron and slid it across the counter. ‘You’re part-time, you understand? Can’t justify more than five hours a day. You get a lunch break and fifteen minutes in the morning. I’ll show you the ropes, but mostly you’ll be on your own.’ And then he was proffering a weathered hand, calloused and cracked, but firm in its handshake.

He’d told his parents that night during dinner, an off-handed comment that had his mother knocking her chair over in the process of getting around the table to hug him, raining kisses on his head like he had discovered the answer to life, the universe and everything, and his father smiling proudly at him and shaking his hand. He wondered as he stared up at his ceiling that night how they would react to him telling them he was going to college if that is how proud they had been of him getting a job. The thought warmed him, and rather than try to sleep, he grabbed his beat-up old laptop and started researching colleges and courses.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post this, like, two days ago or something, but then life happened. So I am taking a break from hurriedly packing stuff into boxes to post this now. 
> 
> Some bad language ahead, but I feel like it is all language I used when I was 11, so on that note, kids, if you gonna be swearing, just don't swear in front of adults - they tend to get pissed off at you. :) 
> 
> Maybe I shouldn't be in charge of kids...

They’d been buying new winter clothes for Lissie – ‘two already, can you believe? It was only five minutes ago she just a squirming little alien baby,’ ‘shut up, Mulder,’ ‘shutting up, Dear’ - when he felt her. It wasn’t a distinct connection like he had with Scully; there was nothing definite there. It was more like the feeling of being watched, only she hadn’t been watching them, hadn’t even noticed them until she caught him staring at her. And then, face blanching, she’d stared at Mulder pulling faces at his daughter and bolted.

He brushed it off; he’d be the first to admit there were some weird people in the world. And people tended to have that reaction with Mulder, anyway. You’re either drawn to him or you run away. No in-between. Well, there were always those who punched him on first sight, but he figured that fell in the category of being attracted to him.

The second time he noticed her, she was definitely watching them. They’d stopped for coffee on the way home from an IKEA trip and he and Mulder were discussing the strengths and virtues of different shoe types for toddlers, an academic debate neither researched nor cited, but that elicited cackles of laughter from Scully as she helped Melissa eat a banana. She’d slipped through the door of the coffee house, bell jingling, ordered an Earl Grey and found a seat by the door whilst seemingly attracting no attention whatsoever. This was a girl who could blend in. This was a girl who could fade into the background, melt into a crowd. This wasn’t a girl with supernatural powers. This was a girl who was good at hide and seek. This was a girl who had spent many years running for her life. He knew some of what that was like. She’d buried her nose in a battered paperback but hadn’t turned a single page since she opened it, and was instead studying the faces around him over the top of the pages.

And so, seeing no harm in it since she was watching them, he watched her. She was slight, and there was something about her freckled face, the pull of her lips, the intensity of her eyes hidden behind a dull glaze. He recognised her, he was sure of it, but he was also certain he had never met her before in this life. Mousy hair hacked to a chin-length bob, a plain grey t-shirt under a fraying olive denim jacket and a pair of black cargo pants. Her nails were bare, bitten to the quick. A nondescript black backpack slumped at her feet: she travelled light. Their eyes locked, narrowed; a challenge from each of them. But then Mulder was proposing his latest point for sandals and his focus was dragged back to the people around him.

He just caught the tail of her jacket flash through the door as she fled.

* * *

Jackson didn’t pay much mind to the girl who had seemed so curious of his family over the coming months, months filled with a squirming toddler invading his privacy every five minutes once she’d figured out door handles and scanning barcodes at the shop, family dinners and oblique discussions of psychology degrees.

Months that turned into a year, a year and a half.

Until there she was, stood in front of him, licking her lips nervously as she placed a can of lemonade on the counter.

‘Do you sell maps of the local area?’

Nobody had ever asked him for a map before. Most people used their cell phones these days. When he’d been on the run, he hadn’t been able to afford maps, and mostly just went where he felt was right. Besides, it was only ever the locals that came in. ‘I…are you following me?’

‘No, I’m asking you for a map. Do you sell them?’

She was older than he’d first assumed, a year and a half back. He’d thought she was his age, but she was maybe five years older. ‘I’ve seen you before. We were in DC for the day and you were there, and then a couple of weeks after that you were in the same coffee shop as us. Are you following us?’

‘If I were following you, do you really think I’d be stupid enough to come and talk to you? I just need a map.’

He narrowed his eyes, ‘why don’t you have a cell phone?’

‘Why do you? They can be traced. Besides, too expensive. Map?’

‘I don’t think we sell them. But if you tell me where you want to go, I can probably help you?’

She pursed her lips, a smirk tugging at one corner. ‘Fine. I need to know where the nearest store that sells maps is.’

‘Ah…’ a breath hissed between gritted teeth; this girl was really starting to piss him off, and it was pissing him off that it was pissing him off. ‘That would probably be five miles north. It’s a long walk –‘ he craned his neck to look out front, see if she had arrived in a car. None were visible, and he assumed she had caught a lift from somewhere ‘- I could call my mom, see if she can dri-‘

‘No! No, that’s- no, no thank you.’

It was far too hasty a response, her first real slip-up. ‘Or, no. No, you wouldn’t go for that.’

‘What?’

‘Well, I know we have a map of the area at home, one we use for hiking. Far more detailed than anything you’ll get at the service station, probably more useful. I was just going to suggest that we walk back to my place when my shift’s over in fifteen, see what I can dig out. I mean, my mom probably isn’t home anyway, so she probably wouldn’t have been able to give you a lift, but you don’t seem to want anything to do with me, so…’ he trailed off with a shrug.

‘I…I could just wait here, you bring it back?’

He snorted, ‘it’s a mile and a half there and back. And it’s hot out. Not sure if you’d noticed, but I have very fair skin.’ A smile twitched on her face at that and the flourished hand he waved down his body with. ‘Look, I’m trying to help you here, I really am, but I am tired, it’s hot, and all I really want to do is take a shower. The way I see it, if you want a map you’ve got two choices. You walk five miles to the nearest Shell garage, which I am guessing is a large detour from wherever you’re heading, or you come back to mine, I give you a cold drink for free, rather than charging you for it like I would that lemonade, and I provide you with a better map and the possibility of a lift to wherever you’re going. It’s simple.’

‘Fine. You win. But just so you know, I carry a knife and I know how to use it.’

‘I don’t doubt that for one minute.’

* * *

The walk to his parents’ house was silent but for their footfalls on the dry tarmac and, when they reached the turning for the drive, the crunch of gravel. He hopped the gate, shooting an expectant look at her and giving an impressed nod when she managed it with twice the agility. He’d been doing it for a good three and a half years now, and she managed it on the first go – not that it was particularly tricky, but one of the hinges was loose and it could wobble unnervingly when you didn’t know the weight distribution. Her footsteps beside him stopped when the house came into sight and an expression he couldn’t read flickered across her face. Something akin to yearning.

As they started walking again he cleared his throat, ‘it’s, uh, it’s not much, I mean- no, that’s not true, it’s a great place, but, uh, inside, it’s…uh, I mean…’ the house he had grown up in had been spotless. Books ordered alphabetically on bookshelves, shoes and soccer balls and skateboards tucked neatly away, coats hung in the cupboard, paperwork kept hidden away in tidy filing cabinets in the study, ‘it’s chaotic. Mul-my…dad, he’s not the greatest at putting things away. Or, well, he kind of is, but it’s to his own filing system. And, my sister, she’s...well, she’s a tornado of chaos.’

‘I can wait outside if you prefer?’

‘No. I mean. I’m not embarrassed or anything, it just, it just takes a bit of adjusting to. Besides, it will probably take a while to find the map.’ They climbed the sagging steps to the porch and he rapped on the door before pulling it open, ‘I’m home!’

‘Hey, Kid,’ a voice called from the kitchen and Mulder’s face popped round the wall, ‘I was just making a PB and J sandwich, you want one?’

‘Sure. Um, you want one?’ he asked the stranger stood beside him and she shrugged, then nodded, the girl who had been so bold in the store reduced to a meek, shy child. ‘Make that two.’

‘Hi. New friend?’

‘Uh…she’s just here to borrow our map of the local area.’

‘Oh, cool,’ Mulder nodded, ducking back into the kitchen.

‘That’s Mulder. He’s my dad, I guess.’

Her eyebrows rose. ‘You guess?’

‘Well, yeah. I mean, he is. It’s just…it’s kinda complicated,’ he nodded, hands in pockets, before jolting into action. ‘Cold drink. I was gonna get you a cold drink, wasn’t I? We’ve got some lemonade in the fridge I think, if Mulder hasn’t drunk it all,’ he walked across the living room, stepping around a precarious pile of medical journals and waving for her to follow, which she did hesitantly.

‘So,’ Mulder asked, focusing on the construction of sandwiches, ‘has New Friend got a name?’

‘I don’t actually know. She’s not shared that piece of information with the class just yet.’

‘E- er, Roberta.’

Mulder’s hands stilled for a moment, shoulders tensing. ‘Roberta, huh? Interesting name.’

Jackson’s eyes flicked between his father’s back and the girl, brow furrowing as she seemed to fold in on herself further. ‘You can talk, Fox.’

‘Ah, yes. True. Well, Roberta, it is a pleasure to meet you.’

She remained silent during the flurry of activity in the kitchen and as a plate was handed to her with a sandwich cut into triangles sat on it. ‘So, where’s Scully?’

‘Lissie wanted to go feed the ducks, so they’re down by the pond. I had one of those online appointments the clinic are trying out, so it gave me a little quiet for that.’ Mulder had been consulting for a psychiatry practice in DC that worked mostly with kids, and they had been working on creating a web-based practice in order to create greater opportunities of reaching and staying in contact with patients who couldn’t get into the practice.

‘Did it work? The online thing?’

‘It’s different, certainly. But it’s something we can work on,’ he nodded, taking a bite from his sandwich. ‘Roberta, you from around here, or…?’

‘Just passing through.’

‘Cool, well, I’ll leave you guys to it. Think I’ll head down to meet Scully and Lissie.’

Jackson nodded as his father left the kitchen. ‘Do you have any idea where the map is?’

He paused for a moment before shaking his head. ‘Your mom had it last I think.’

* * *

‘Well, yes, of course, I looked in there, but it isn’t there. No, no, I haven’t tried on top of the fridge, because no normal person puts maps on top of the fridge. Yes, I’ll check there next. Okay. See you soon,’ he hung up his phone and shot an apologetic glance over to their visitor before realising she was stood on the stairs looking at the photos on the wall there. They were Scully’s doing. Mostly from the last four years. Mostly of Melissa. A couple of him. A fair few of her and Mulder together from the past few years. Three small photos of him as a baby. A photo of Scully’s mom and sister.

‘There are none of you growing up.’

‘No, I…I didn’t live with them for quite a while.’

She looked over at him, frowning. ‘You didn’t?’

‘No. Scully had me adopted when I was a baby. It’s, uh…it’s complicated, and you don’t care.’

‘No, I want to know. If…if you don’t mind.’

‘Mulder wasn’t around then. He was in hiding, to try and keep me safe. But it didn’t work. It wasn’t keeping me safe. And so, she did the only thing she could do. She sent me far, far away. And Mulder came home to her and they ran off, fugitives of the government,’ at her raised eyebrows he laughed. ‘I know, right? Sounds like some bad film plot. Anyway, my adoptive parents died, and Mulder and Scully were investigating their death, and I figured…it’s hard to explain, but I wanted to get to know them, you know? I wanted to see where I came from, why I am who I am. I guess I wanted answers.’

‘I get that,’ she paused. Then, ‘do you blame them? For giving you up?’

He leant back against the cabinet he was standing by and folded his arms over his chest with a pensive frown. ‘I did. When I was a kid. And a teenager. Before I met them. And even once I’d met them, a bit. I envy Melissa sometimes, that she gets such an uncomplicated life. But I don’t blame them anymore. I understand why they did what they did. I think, if I were in Scully’s situation, I would have done the same.

‘But, if I was in Mulder’s situation I would never have left. I think that’s the harder of the two to forgive. I don’t blame him, but sometimes I wish he hadn’t left us. I don’t know. It must have been a hard decision for him though. They tried for years to have me, he said. Scully doesn’t talk about it much, but Mulder answers questions when asked. She’s not supposed to be able to have children, you see. She was abducted, years and years ago, and they did something to her. Took her ability to conceive and carry children, gave her cancer. Really put her through the wringer,’ he shrugged, ‘maybe that’s why I don’t blame her – she really wanted me, they tried so hard for me. She had a daughter before me, see, and she…well, she died. Emily, her name was. We don’t talk about Emily, though. It hurts her too much. I just guess I can’t blame someone who was doing something they thought was best for me, can I?’

She had made her way down the stairs whilst he was talking and had been investigating the room; reading titles of books, running her fingers over the Afghan on the back of the couch. She frowned but nodded, ‘I guess I can see that.’

‘So, uh, what about your parents? I mean, I’ve told you my life story…’

‘Nothing to tell. They died when I was a kid. I didn’t really know them, just vague memories,’ her voice grew fainter as she picked up a framed photo that sat on top of the bureau that Scully used when she was working. ‘Was this them when they were younger?’

‘Yeah. They both worked for the FBI. They were on a case and some crime tech took a photo of them. That was back when cameras all took film. Mulder waxes lyrical about those days all the time.’

Her finger was tracing the outline of Scully’s face, her own contorted in what could have been sadness or could have been pain. ‘She’s really pretty, your mom. What’s- what’s she like?’

‘She’s nice. She’s real nice. She’s quite hard to get to know, but I think that’s just because she’s been through so much shit and people have used her quite a bit. She’s really good at hugs’ – that elicited a smile – ‘and she’s kinda a bit sad all the time, but when Mulder’s with her it’s like she can bear it, y’know, and when you make her laugh it makes you feel good, too. She likes to always be right – she’s really smart – but she’s very scientific, apart from when it’s about God. She goes to church sometimes; I think she went more often before Lissie was born. She doesn’t take shit, like, she _knows_ when you’re lying, it’s insane. But she’s fair. She’s never irrational. She’ll be back soon – you could meet her if you want; I mean, you’ve already met Mulder, and he’s the acquired taste of the two. Everyone likes Scully.’

‘No. Really. I should get going. Just, uh, the map.’

‘Oh, right. I was going to check the top of the fridge. Back in a second.’ He was, map in hand, a piece of paper folded in the other. He handed the map over with an apologetic grin, ‘there’s a tomato sauce stain over Arlington, but other than that it’s in pretty good condition.’

‘Thanks. I’ll just be a few minutes.’

‘You can keep it, you know. It’s not like we use it.’

She stared at him and shook her head, ‘I couldn’t- no. It’s your parents. I couldn’t take it from them.’

‘You wouldn’t be taking it from them. I’m giving it to you. It’s different. Besides, you need it more than we do, and we can get another one online if we really desperately need one.’

She blushed, a pretty flush of pink across freckled nose and cheeks. ‘Thank you.’

‘I, um, I also wrote my number down, and our address. Just in case you need anything. I know you don’t have a phone, but there are still a couple of payphones about, and just…you seem nice, and kind of lonely.’

An echo of voices bounced in through the kitchen window and her eyes went wide, the blush draining from her cheeks. ‘I’ve got to go. Thank you, again,’ and with that, she was ducking out the front door just as the back door was swinging open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, someone doesn't want to meet Scully...
> 
> Uhhh...so when I said I wrote the first three chapters and probably have a forth in me? I don't think I've finished the forth yet. And I have absolutely no idea where I am going with it. I do kind of definitely want there to be five chapters in total though. I don't know, we'll see what happens.


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, before you read, I just want to justify something. Scully might seem...out of character here. I don't know. Maybe. But, and this is a big but, this is kind of seen through Jackson's eyes, so I'm thinking his point of view is potentially tainted by his and Scully's connection and so she seems less in control than she might have been. 
> 
> Also, the Scully in this is a far cry from the Scully we saw on the show - she's mellowed, she's putting the past behind her, she's focusing on her family, a family that she has and wants to protect. 
> 
> I don't know. I...yeah, I don't know ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> This is short. I was going to wait until tomorrow to post it, but I figured I could just post it now.

He woke because she was in distress. The house was quiet, but he could feel her crying somewhere.

It had happened before. He’d woken to her tears ripping his chest open, constricting his heart. He’d snuck up the stairs to hear her sobbing into Mulder’s arms. Overheard a conversation he wished he hadn’t. Listened as she’d declared herself empty. Sat on the top step as Mulder told her they could try again, that they’d reapply. He slipped away as she bemoaned that it was their third rejection, that there was too much history and too many complications for them to adopt.

This time wasn’t like the last though. This time there was anger and denial and fear. This time he could feel her trembling. This time the voices weren’t coming from upstairs, but the porch. He dragged a pair of jeans on and debated whether to go straight to her or to get Mulder. At a shout of ‘no’, he decided on the former.

There she was, on the porch, the soft glow of a candle illuminating her sharp features and the barrel of a gun. ‘Mom, what are you doing?’ calm and controlled. Soft-spoken.

‘Jackson, go back inside now. It’s nothing for you to worry about. Just go to bed.’

‘Mom. I’m not going inside. Not until you lower that gun and tell me what’s going on,’ she hadn’t looked at him once and as he inched closer to her he could see the figure she was aiming at. ‘Roberta?’

‘I didn’t know your name until now. Jackson? It’s a good name. Um, is there any way you can get your mom to point the gun at anything but me? I mean, not to sound overdramatic, but it’s really not a good thing that happens when I get shot. Trust me.’

‘Mom. Mom, what are you doing?’

‘It’s not real, Jackson. Just go to sleep, okay Baby. Just go to sleep, and in the morning the bad dreams will have gone away.’

His brow furrowed. ‘We’re not dreaming, Scully. I woke up because you were awake.’

‘But she’s not real. She can’t be real.’

He laughed then. Out loud and all. Maybe it was the adrenaline of standing next to one’s mother as she aimed a gun at a relative stranger in the middle of the night. ‘No, she’s real. I watched her eat a PB and J sandwich and down a glass of your lemonade. I gave her our map. Remember, I told you?’

‘But, but she’s dead. She’s dead. I lost her. Don’t you understand, Jackson? She can’t be real. Because she died in my arms. Which means that she’s one of _them_. She’s an alien.’

‘Jackson,’ the girl on the grass said, her hands still held up in surrender, ‘I really think you should go get Mulder right about now. I think he’ll be able to diffuse this situation.’

‘No! No, you’re not luring him out like that. You’re not getting to him, not now. No. No. No.’

‘I don’t want to hurt Mulder, or you, or Jackson. I’m not here to hurt anyone. I swear. I’m not a clone, or an alien, or any of the other things you think I am,’ her voice was choked and he could see tears streaking her cheeks, reflecting in the candlelight. ‘Please? Just, please?’

He took a moment to scan the porch, find something to help defend the girl crying on the grass with when he noticed the Afghan crumpled in the chair and a cup of tea on the ground by it. She’d been out here watching the stars. Figuring Mulder was probably not sleeping particularly deeply if Scully’s half of the bed was empty, he yelled, ‘Mulder?! Mulder, I think you should get down here!’ He heard something crash inside the house, and moments later Mulder was barrelling out the door with his gun.

‘What’s going on?’

‘Mom’s holding Roberta hostage. And she won’t explain why.’

‘Mulder, go back inside. She’s one of _them._ She’s a trick, a trap. She’s not, she can’t be, she’s…’ she was panicking, distress seeping from her pores in a fog that was amping up the anxiety of everyone involved.

Jackson watched as the sleepy confusion in Mulder’s eyes melted away into a clear understanding. ‘Okay, okay. Scully, I’ve got you covered, but what I need from you is to hand Jackson your gun, okay, because you’re crying and your vision’s obscured. We don’t want to miss our shot here, do we?’

She swallowed with a nod and clicked the safety back on before passing her weapon over to him. He ejected the clip and tucked both halves into his pockets.

Mulder lowered his gun slightly, aiming it more at the steps than the visitor, as he wrapped an arm around Scully, ‘why are you here, Roberta?’

‘I just came to return your map.’

‘And you really have no intention of killing us in our sleep?’ She shook her head frantically, the confident young woman he had met at the store reduced to a little girl. ‘Jackson, take your mother inside and make four mugs of hot choco-‘

‘No, Mulder, I’m not leaving you outside with _it_!’

‘Scully, you’re going to wake Melissa if you keep shouting. Go inside with Jackson. We’ll be in in a minute. Jackson, there’s a secret stash of marshmallows at the back of the bread bin.’ He turned back to face their visitor, voice softening, ‘do you still like marshmallows, Emily?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh... yeah, I guess everyone knew. I'm not great at subtlety and suspense and mystery. Oh well. I'll probably post the next one in a couple of days. I mean, unless you're really desperate for it tomorrow and I have the time to proofread it, but it's the last one I've got at the moment, so I need some time to get the last two chapters typed up, and I've only got six days before I am out of our house and effectively homeless until we can get into my new house (Jesus Christ, I'm about to be a homeowner) and I don't know how long I will be in limbo for, so I will try to get it done by then, but we've still got a lot of packing and fixing and cleaning and shit to do, so I am probably only going to get time to write a couple of hours at night, maximum. But yeah, if I don't get chapters 5 and 6 written and posted for a while, it's probably because I am camping somewhere or sleeping in my car or something and don't have electricity. Or it's because I'm packing and unpacking boxes. Or I'm just not inspired. Or a combination of all three.


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Chris Carter can fuck with the MythArc, so can I. 
> 
> :p

They were sat in stony silence around the kitchen table as Mulder handed each of them a mug. Scully was glaring at Emily, biting the corner of her thumbnail and jiggling her leg up and down. Emily was trying to look as unobtrusive as possible. Jackson was just trying to figure out what was going on. ‘I should have known last time you were here. I thought you were familiar. And, of course, ‘Roberta’ was a hint.’

She faced Mulder as he sat at the head of the table, between the two women. ‘I figured ‘Emily’ would have given the game away.’

‘I can’t…I’m not listening to this,’ Scully stood up, shaking her head, fingers at her cross.

‘You did that when I met you last time. You fiddled with your necklace, and then you gave it to me. You put me in the car and you gave me your necklace and promised me you’d come visit the next day. And you did, you came every day, and we drew pictures and we played with these old, beaten up dolls the children’s home had. And then I was sick and we were in the hospital and you stayed with me.’

‘No. Stop. Please, stop now. It’s not funny; it’s a trap, it’s got to be. I held my daughter as she died in a hospital bed. I’m not listening to this.’ She was shaking as she turned her back on them and hurried up the stairs.

Mulder sighed, ‘I’m sorry, I… if it helps, I believe you.’

‘It doesn’t, but that’s okay,’ she sighed, rubbing her forehead. ‘I didn’t expect anyone to be awake. I was just going to leave the map on the doorstep and leave.’

‘Didn’t plan on coming in and saying hi?’

‘No. I figured I’d hurt- I’d caused enough pain here.’

The three of them sat in tense, uncomfortable silence, each staring at their own mugs. ‘You know if she’s going to believe you she’s going to need to know how you survived?’

‘I wish I had an answer for her,’ a heavy sigh, a hand rubbing her forehead. ‘I…I don’t remember much. I remember a lot of pain. Everything being hot. And Dana. I remember Dana holding me. And then…nothing. Blackness. Except…I remember hearing her cry. And then I woke up in a hospital. It was a children’s home as a front, but all of us there knew a hospital when we saw one. There were kids of all ages there. And then you’d turn sixteen and disappear. We were given daily injections, to keep our bodies from destroying themselves from the inside out – it was this green fluid, horrible smell’- she pulled the sleeve of her sweater up, revealing track marks in the crease of her elbow –‘I think they purposefully caused scars to dissuade us from ever getting help from external doctors if we ever escaped: you turn up at a hospital looking a bit rough, track marks up your arm, no ID or insurance, you’re not going to get help. Not any help that doesn’t get you sent right back to where you came from, anyway.

‘Then, when I was maybe five or six they inserted a chip, here’ – she tapped the back of her neck and Mulder nodded in response – ‘and stopped giving us injections. Some of the kids went missing around that time,’ she shrugged, ‘but mostly life got, well – y’know, I was going to say better, but that would be the wrong word. It became bearable, just. We were still under close watch, but there were no more injections.

‘There used to be inspections and things, men in sharp suits coming to check up on us, but then a couple years after the chips, it was like they lost interest in us. The inspections stopped. The nurses, they kind of just…stopped caring. Like, we still had to stay, we still had to go to the lessons we were given, and go to the gym, but…it was like they were training us, and then the threat was over so whoever was in charge decided we didn’t need training anymore, only nobody told the nurses that. I think the funding stopped or was cut or something. Staff numbers dropped, kids went missing and nobody cared, the paint started peeling, things fell apart. We were all but forgotten.

‘A couple of years back there was one last inspection. Guy in a wheelchair, pushed by a lady with dark hair, a sharp suit. Dark lipstick – I remember her dark lipstick. And then a few weeks later the nurses left. They cut the power. We’d gotten to know them quite well by then – I mean, they’d practically raised us – and there were a couple who were kind. One of them told us that the last of the funding had dried up. The last of the benefactors was dead. Suggested we should scram – and don’t, under any circumstances, get cut. They were always so worried, after the chips, about us getting cut.’

‘Jesus…’ Mulder sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face. ‘You know what happens when you bleed?’

She grinned, ‘you really think we were warned so, so many times not to get cut, and we just…accepted that? Green’s a great colour, don’t you think? I would show you, but I think that it would result in Dana trusting me even less.’

‘Wise decision,’ he stood up, cracking his neck and stifling a yawn. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

Jackson and Emily sat staring at one another’s hands, each folded on top of the table. ‘They lost interest in you because of me.’

‘What?’

‘I can… do things,’ he murmured. Taking a breath, he felt energy flow out of him, watched as every object on every surface of the room lifted up an inch and vibrated. And then everything settled back down gently, their cooling hot chocolates sloshing.

‘Dude. You’ve got telekinetic powers? No shit?!’

‘I can do other things, too. I can read minds, sort of, and project on them. I’m not really supposed to talk about it or show it off or anything. I’m a scientific goldmine -‘ he gave a flourishing wave down his body like he had when she had been in the store the other week and she snorted with laughter.

‘Makes two of us, Buddy. You can make shit happen with your mind and my blood kills people. You think Dana’s got some sort of crazy DNA she’s passing on?’ it was a joke, but he took it completely seriously.

‘Oh, I know she has. She’s got this messed up alien DNA, but, uh, I actually think it’s the combination of her and Mulder that really fucks you up. Though I hope I’m wrong about that…’

‘Your sister?’

‘Yeah. I don’t want her to be- I don’t want her to have a hard time because of some stupid colonisation plan.’

‘Colonisation plan?’

‘Yeah, these guys in the government made a deal with a bunch of aliens. I don’t know, I didn’t understand it the third time Mulder explained it to me. Do you ever just get really sick of your life being a bad sci-fi b-movie plot?’

‘Ugh, all the goddamn time,’ she tossed her head back with a dramatic roll of her eyes and a laugh.

Mulder reappeared from upstairs with a pillow and a pile of blankets, ‘it’s not the greatest bed, but I can guarantee that couch is very comfortable.’

Emily stood up, shaking her head, ‘I couldn’t, really. I shouldn’t-‘

‘Where else are you going to go?’

‘I’ll find somewhere. I always do.’

He let out a groan as he made the sofa up. ‘Jesus you Scullys are stubborn. What is it that our kids just don’t understand about the fact that there is always going to be a roof here for them, no matter what. No matter whether they sneak their paychecks into our bank accounts or not’ – he sent a piercing look to Jackson – ‘or if we didn’t know you were alive until now, and it takes a bit of time to come to terms with it. Does either of you actually think we would turf you out onto the street? I mean, we live in the middle of goddamn nowhere, even we’re not that inhuman,’ he looked between the two of them. ‘Now, if we were still living in Georgetown or Alexandria, where we could pack you off on a bus or send you to a youth hostel or something, sure, but not out here,’ he gave a disarming grin. ‘And even if we were in the city, you’d have to give us a pretty good reason.

‘Go on. Get some sleep, the pair of you. We’ve still got a lot more talking to do tomorrow.’

Jackson looked over at him, questioning, ‘Scully? She’s…?’

‘She’s good, Kid. She’s with Melissa. I’ll talk her down, it’s okay,’ he squeezed his son’s shoulder and gave a grateful smile, ‘thanks for everything you’ve done tonight though, Buddy.’

He flicked a wave at Emily, nodded goodnight to Mulder and headed over to his room, leaving the four still-full mugs of stone-cold hot chocolate, marshmallows congealing on top, on the kitchen table for the morning. As he was opening his door, he heard Emily ask quietly ‘do you still do Mr Potato Head?’


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for suicide mention. 
> 
> I don't know if I like how I handled this chapter. There's a lot of dialogue and I just...I'm not a fan. But, you know ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ it was a rough chapter to write.

Nobody slept that night. Well, Melissa did, but then she could sleep through a hurricane. Just like her mother, Mulder always said. Jackson could feel Scully crying from across the house, could hear Mulder’s soft murmurs in his head, like Scully was trying to calm him as an extension of herself, like focusing on him would make it easier not to focus on the daughter on her couch. He could hear the occasional shift and creak from the other side of his bedroom door, Emily stirring, attempting to silently scout out the room, study books and photographs and papers alike.

He heard the rhythmic squeak of a floorboard at one point in the night, press-ups behind the sofa. He counted to 78 before plugging his headphones into his phone. Emily was a machine; one he was certain could obliterate the entire household should the fancy take her. He was confident that it wouldn’t though, that tonight at least they would be safe with her. But she didn’t seem to like being caged. As the night wore on and grey morning light filtered weakly through the windows, her pacing of the living room grew more nervous.

The energy at breakfast was tense. All of them had bags under their eyes and Mulder was the only person who was not staring at the floor or his coffee cup. Scully had refused to bring Lissie downstairs with Emily in the house and had insisted instead that she take breakfast up to her. Mulder had relented but insisted they had to talk everything out. At which point a rather one-sided argument had ensued, one in which Scully pointed out that ‘talking everything out’ had never actually worked for them, really, and that he was one to talk, considering he never actually said anything he meant and had spent so much of the last twenty-five years keeping secrets and keeping his emotions hidden from her. Mulder took every barb she cast at him straight in the chest, and kept taking them until she was spent, breast heaving, shoulders slumping, cheeks flushed and eyes overflowing with tears.

Deciding that he really didn’t have the energy to deal with any more shouting, crying or discussing, and that, honestly, these discussions didn’t involve him at all, really, Jackson took the bowl of porridge and bananas from his mother’s hands, along with a sippy-cup of water from the counter, and headed upstairs.

His sister was sat on the landing, eyes wide in the dark.

‘What are you doing out here, hey?’

‘Mama said I wasn’t allowed breakfast.’

‘I don’t think she meant you weren’t allowed breakfast, I think she just meant she wanted you to stay up here for a bit. See, she gave me your breakfast to eat up here today. Like breakfast in bed,’ he proffered her water and a hand, both of which she took and led him to her room, plonking down in the middle of the floor.

She was three spoonfuls into her breakfast when she looked up at him, ‘who’s Emmy?’

‘Emily?’

‘Mmhm. Mama was talking ‘bout Emmy last night.’

‘I think that’s something you need to ask Mom and Dad. But she’s come to visit for a bit.’

‘Does Mama not like her?’

He placed a hand on his sister’s soft, sleep-tousled curls and shook his head, ‘I don’t really know. I think she likes her a lot, and she’s very important, but she’s feeling a lot of very confusing things at the moment,’ clear blue eyes gazed up at him innocently and he smiled, ‘come on, eat your breakfast and we’ll go see what’s going on.’

* * *

All was quiet downstairs when he placed Lissie on his shoulders and headed out of her room with her empty bowl and cup stacked in one of his hands. Soft murmurs drifted up from the kitchen as he made his footfalls heavy enough to alert them of his coming presence.

‘…seeking you out or anything. Not at first. I saw you as I was walking by a shoe shop and I recognised you both instantly, and I just…I wanted to watch you for a bit. You had a son and a daughter and it was like, I don’t know. You seemed happy. And then I saw you again, going into IKEA, and I followed you to this coffeehouse. Jackson saw me watching you – most people don’t notice me.’

‘You’ve grown your hair out since then. It’s longer,’ he said from the bottom of the stairs.

Three faces turned to see the two kids watching on. Jackson made his way over to Scully, as she stiffly leant against the kitchen counter, stood next to her and bumped her hip with his own as a sign of reassurance before settling in next to her.

‘I figure I’d be less recognisable like this.’

Scully pursed her lips and turned back to Emily. ‘And then what? You just…searched us up, found our address, decided to pop by for a visit.’

‘I- I guess I was curious. I spent a lot of time in libraries reading articles about and by the pair of you –‘ she tilted her head towards Mulder ‘-I liked your book by the way. Very…honest.’ Mulder gave a shrug and she continued, ‘I didn’t plan to introduce myself or anything. I just wanted to see where you lived, see that you were happy. I guess…part of me wanted to see whether if it had all been different, whether you were the sort of people who would have given me a home, if you actually would have adopted me, would have fought for me. But, uh, this place isn’t really on many maps. I hitchhiked to the store, hoping I’d be able to ask about this place and you guys. Only Jackson was there, and I could hardly ask him where he and his parents lived. So I figured it might be on more local maps.’

‘It’s not.’

‘I realised, thanks,’ her face crumpled as soon as the remark had slipped out. ‘Sorry. I- I’m not used to-‘

‘It’s a defence mechanism-‘ Mulder interrupted her apology, much to the apparent relief of Emily ‘-I can only imagine what you have been through, you’re entitled to a little sarcasm here and there.’

‘And then we were here. And I was hearing about how perfect you are as parents and I was wishing so much that I could stay and that you would just accept me as one of you and we could all play happy families and I could rest. But then Jackson said that I had died and that you didn’t really talk about me because it hurt so much. I didn’t want to hurt you anymore, so I took the map and I left.’

‘Where’d you go?’

She shrugged. ‘Around. I hitchhiked to San Diego. I tried to find the Sims’ graves. I thought mine might be there.’

Scully lifted her head and stared at Emily directly for the first time that morning, ‘it’s here, next to my sister and my mom. We had your funeral in San Diego, but your coffin is buried here so I could visit it.’

‘Why were you returning the map?’

She paused, brow furrowed, ran a thumbnail along the grain of the table. ‘I figured I didn’t need it and I figured that if anyone found me, it would potentially lead them back to you, and I didn’t want that.’

A look of concern crossed Mulder’s face as he sat down in the chair opposite her, the psychologist in him showing. ‘Emily,’ he started carefully, ‘why would anyone have found you?’

‘My body…I don’t know how I would decompose. I’d planned to make my way down to the Atacama desert, and, um…I don’t know how much you know about hybrids?’

‘Enough.’

‘We’re not particularly easy to kill, see. But there’s this one point, on the back of our necks, where the implant is-‘

‘We’re aware of it, yes.’

‘I figured…I figured if someone else could kill me by stabbing me there, so could I.’

‘Why?’

‘I wasn’t meant to exist. I was an experiment. It’s what happened to everyone who stayed at the hospital when the nurses left. I figured, with nowhere else to go, that would be the best thing to do. The Atacama has so little life, see, I figured my body wouldn’t harm anything no matter how it decomposed, and I was fairly certain I wouldn’t be discovered. I just didn’t want to do any more harm.’

Mulder reached over, covered her hand with his where it was worrying the wood, and smiled softly at her. ‘Okay. Thank you for telling me.’

Scully cleared her throat and ducked her head, a short ‘excuse me, please,’ before darting up the stairs.

‘I’ll-‘

‘No, I’ll go-‘ he interrupted his father ‘-I think- I think it might be better if I go,’ he proffered his sister and she squirmed as soon as she was sat in Mulder’s lap, twisting to face Emily across from her.

‘You’re pretty.’

‘I…’ a look of confusion passed across the older girl’s face, and she hid behind her soft curls. ‘Thanks.’

Jackson sent a sad look towards the girl who had never been told she was pretty and made his way carefully up the stairs, sending out feelers towards his mother, knowing already what was plaguing her thoughts. She was in her and Mulder’s en suite, knuckles white as the porcelain they clutched as she hunched over the sink and sobbed. ‘Hey.’

She sniffed, stood straight and wiped her eyes on her sleeve as she turned her face away from him.

‘Don’t do that. I know you’re crying, and that’s okay.’

‘I don’t deserve to cry.’

He snorted as he slouched against the doorframe, ‘that’s bullshit and you know it.’

‘Jackson!’

‘I’m just telling the truth. I can read your mind, remember. Firstly, I know your language choices are much more vulgar than mine, and secondly, I know that you’re hurting, and you’re allowed to cry when you’re hurting.’

‘I’m a terrible mother. I just listened to a child’s suicide plan and all I can think about is how I didn’t even trust her. What kind of a mother doesn’t even trust her own daughter? What kind of a _person_ holds a gun on an innocent kid and doesn’t believe them when they say they’re their daughter? I’m a terrible person.’

‘Nah, you’re not. You’re someone who’s been through a lot. A lot a lot a lot. I mean, you’ve been through…just a lot, really. I don’t think Emily would have ever expected any different reaction from you. I think that’s maybe why she came at night. Why were you awake, anyway?’

‘I felt…I don’t know, I felt like it was the right place to be. I had this feeling, like I needed to guard the house. Apparently, I was wrong.’

‘Maybe you knew she was on her way and you just couldn’t identify what it was that you knew,’ Jackson shrugged. He knew his mother was psychic, even if she didn’t. ‘Do you still think she’s here to harm us?’

Scully shook her head slowly, tears rolling down her cheeks, ‘if she was she’d have killed us all last night.’

‘Exactly. You really aren’t a terrible person you know? I mean, you were just protecting your family. You’ve lost far too much already. She understands that.’

‘It doesn’t forgive it, though.’

‘So, go down and apologise. Give the girl a hug – lord knows she needs it.’

‘And then what? It will all be okay? These things aren’t that easy, Jackson, and you know it.’

‘And then you tell her that you love her. Tell her that it’s going to be okay. Tell her she can stay as long as she needs, as long as she wants. You tell her she’s home. You kiss her forehead and tell her how you feel, how glad you are that she’s alive, but that you’re still scared. You’re scared you’ll do something wrong. You’re scared she’ll get sick again. You’re scared that someone will find us all, that something will happen to all of us. You tell her that, whilst you don’t know her yet, you want to change that. You want to get to know her. You tell her that, no matter whether she was an experiment or not, you always wanted her.’

She shook her head. ‘It won’t fix anything.’

‘No, but it will be a start.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still living at my friend's house because there have been extra complications with moving, which sucks, and it kind of has my anxiety bouncing around all over the place, because I was meant to have moved in by now, and we can't because my mother is being malicious and causing problems for the sake of causing problems. So I am still technically homeless and we're just waiting for a load of shit to go through court, and I have no permanent address at the moment which means that when I run out of meds I don't know what I am going to do and I just...ugh, you don't need to know all this. 
> 
> Anyway, it means that I don't often have time to myself to write because when I am not sorting stuff for the new house out, I am living in a household with 5 other people, and it's kinda chaotic and whilst I have a room to myself and everything, it's still kinda hard to find time to myself because, you know, we're living in a pandemic, so everyone is home all the time. And my cat is sharing a room with me and keeps sitting on my laptop every time I try to write. 
> 
> But I am going to try and start on chapter six today because everyone is out, since I kind of know where I want it to go. And I have another little thing I want to try working on, but I might also just utilise the empty house and spend the whole day napping ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking it will be around five chapters maybe. Maybe six, I don't know. I also don't know how frequently I'll be updating. Maybe one a day, maybe one a week. Don't know. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ (also, this shrugging face kinda reminds me of Mulder's little shrug in Leonard Betts when Scully's like 'you're not suggesting that a headless body kicked his way out of a latched morgue freezer, are you?')


End file.
